To Treasure
by Anjelle
Summary: Home is a difficult thing to define. When you're left alone in a cold, secluded world, you may feel like you don't have one. But no matter how broken things get, there's always someone to pick up the pieces. [A/U]


**A oneshot to celebrate Marco's (belated) birthday! Yes, that's it, it's not just an excuse to post something on a day that's not Thursday... *cough***

* * *

"I can always rely on you, buddy," the redhead stated with a grin as he lead the way down the hall, glancing back at the blonde following in his wake.

"It's the least I could do," the other replied, "and it was a nice excuse to visit. I haven't been back here in a while yoi."

His friend laughed. "Miss us that much?"

Small smile playing on his lips, he nodded, "Yeah."

It was true; he missed the orphanage dearly. While it wasn't the most ideal place to grow up in, it was home—always would be. He spent the better part of eighteen years there and cherished every memory he had. The workers were more like family to him than anything and kids who were orphaned there at the same time as him, like his friend Thatch, he called his brothers and sisters. They cared for each other immensely and he missed that connection.

Turning eighteen was both a great and horrid experience. He got to experience life on his own, gained tremendous responsibility and set off to become self-sufficient, as was expected of anyone who didn't get adopted. As daunting as it was, he pulled through and was making a good living for himself. He worked for Edward Newgate, the owner of the orphanage who was the chairman of a wide variety of companies and rose through the ranks—albeit slowly—over the past year. It wasn't much but was just enough to allow him to pursue a higher education. His pay was welcomed and he made off well, but that didn't mean he didn't miss the life he left behind. Living across the city made it hard to visit the orphanage and with school and work taking up a good chunk of his time, he hadn't returned in over six months.

When he got a call from Thatch on Thursday asking him if he'd like to fill in for one of the child care workers who'd fallen ill, he readily accepted. The semester had just ended and it was a great opportunity to see his family again. While he wasn't the most social person in the world, he loved being with the kids. They were his precious family, after all. So he immediately agreed to spend the weekend there.

"Here we are," Thatch stated, turning on his heel to one of the playrooms. "We'll be responsible for these guys." The redhead gestured to the large window in the door.

Marco nodded and peeked inside. The age range for that room was seven to thirteen, which was perfect for someone without any experience in the field of child care. They were all divide into smaller groups, playing around and talking and being, well, kids. On the far wall was a screen door that opened to the yard.

"Think you can handle them, Marco?" his friend asked with a bemused grin.

Marco eyed him, smirking. "I would hope so, seeing as they're family yoi."

"Don't think of them as family; they'll eat you alive," he declared before pushing the door open. Heads turned and everything went silent as the two men entered, smiling at the gawking children. "Look who's he—"

"Marco!" some of the children shouted as they raced up and embraced the young adult, all trying to get his attention at once, causing their words to transform into incoherent noise.

Thatch raised an eyebrow, retaining his lopsided grin as he watched the scene unfold. Each of the children who'd been there for longer than a year saw the blonde as a role model. After all, he got out and became successful. He was a hero to them—someone they aspired to be like. His long absence left a few of the children melancholic, wondering if he was ever going to come back.

He was their precious older brother, after all.

* * *

Marco watched as the children filed out into the yard, keeping his eye on one in particular. He didn't recognise the kid which meant he was likely new. It wasn't uncommon for children his age to show up there—they would lose their parents and have no one who was willing to take them in, leaving them for the orphanage to care for. If that was the case, he'd likely still be grieving, which would explain his isolation from the other children; he spent the day thus far sitting in solitude, not even acknowledging the others. It worried him.

"Oi, Thatch," he called, catching his partner's attention as they stood in the doorway, "what's his story?"

"Hm?" The redhead followed his eyes, coming to rest on the ebony hair of the boy sitting against the wall of the orphanage, away from everyone else. "Oh, that's Ace. He's been here a good four months."

Marco turned his head at that, furrowing his brows. After that long he should have adjusted to life there and, if his parents died recently, he should have been able to cope. "What's wrong yoi?"

The other sighed—a rarity for him.

"We picked him up off the streets when he tried stealing from Izo." So it wasn't that his parents died. Maybe he was uncomfortable around people. "He's not very social and the only one he bothered to open up to was his little brother."

"Brother?" Marco repeated, growing more curious as the story went on.

"He was adopted last week by a man named Monkey D. Garp claiming to be his biological grandfather."

"Then…?" He was abandoned.

Thatch nodded. "Left Ace behind—said he wasn't 'one of his'. Oyaji tried to convince him not to separate them but no luck."

Marco sighed. It wasn't the first time he heard a story like that. The orphanage was filled with all sorts. By his guess, Ace met his little brother while they were living on the streets and they bonded. Just because they weren't blood related didn't mean they weren't close. Marco knew that well; Thatch and the other orphans from his childhood were as much his siblings as any biological relation. It must have been hard for the boy, losing the only person he had a connection with. He wanted to do something—to make the kid feel more at home.

When Thatch went to play with the kids, Marco plopped down beside the child and watched as his buddy ran, chased by a tiny army across the grass. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the boy look at him, curious but silent. Moments later he turned away, done with his wordless investigation.

"Hey," the blonde greeted, facing the child. His only response was a quick glance before Ace hugged his knees closer to his chest, determined not to look his way. "I'm Marco yoi."

Still he said nothing.

Narrowing his eyes, the older tried to read his expression. "Lonely?"

Ace flinched and finally turned to him, glaring his hardest at the man. If looks could kill, Marco wouldn't have stood a chance. Alas, it didn't faze the adult in the slightest, leading the boy to stare hard at the ground and return to sulking.

Marco's shoulders sagged. It looked like it would be harder to get him to open up than he thought. Well, he had three days.

* * *

They'd retreated to the kitchen for the time, assisting with dinner preparations. Feeding a group of just over one hundred children and a few dozen adults proved to be quite a challenge and so the workers would assist whenever the children were put back in their rooms to quiet themselves at night. Marco was in the middle of chopping up tomatoes—a job he frequented the years leading up to his leave of the place.

"Ah, Ace?" Izo questioned as he expertly minced a stock of celery. He paused in his task, allowing the knife to rest lazily in his hand, turning to the blonde questioning him. "I was running some errands for Oyaji and he tried to jump me. Pretty gutsy for a brat his size," he noted, grinning at the memory.

Marco paused, glancing over at the crossdresser. "That so?"

The other nodded. "With a metal pipe, no less," he added. "Of course, it didn't work and he tried to run away. I chased after him and that's when I came across Luffy."

"Luffy?" he repeated.

"That's the name of the kid he called his little brother," Thatch explained from his place at the stove.

"Poor kid was half starved so I decided to bring them back here."

"That's it yoi?" Marco was surprised the story was that simple. With what he'd been hearing about the boy all day—his violent tendencies, antisocial behavior and stubbornness—he expected them to say that the boy refused and fought back, tried running or something equally as frustrating.

"Pretty much," Izo answered. "When I told him I'd get his brother help he shut up and let me do whatever I needed to. Didn't stop glaring, though."

He had to smile at that. It seemed Ace cared a lot for his brother and only wanted the best for him. The kid swallowed his pride and accepted the orphanage's care, assuring that the youngest of the pair would be alright. They must have been close. It was actually saddening, knowing that Luffy was so important to his brother yet was separated from him. "How old was the younger brother?"

"Mmmm…" Izo placed his index finger to his chin in a look of concentration. "I think he was about six. They're around three years apart."

Living on the streets at such a young age spelt certain death. They took in a lot of kids like that. He likely wouldn't have survived without their support. What worried Marco most was that, being so young, Luffy might forget about his older brother over time. Ace wouldn't, though. He would remember him for the rest of his life. It didn't really seem fair.

Haruta ceased peeling carrots, allowing her hands to fall to the counter as a worn, heavy look crossed her features. She sighed. "I feel sorry for the kid."

Marco, having resumed his task, glanced at his sister. "Why's that?"

"Because…" She searched for the right words, pulling her mouth into a taut line. "It'll be hard for him to get adopted."

* * *

Marco entered the sleeping quarters of his group of children, making his rounds to assure they were all accounted for and in bed like they were supposed to be. While the orphanage was normally a very relaxed place, they weren't allowed to wander at night. There were many reasons why that rule was so heavily enforced, but the main one was that if something happened, they would have a harder time getting help. If something happened there was a speaker in each bedroom that connected to the staff sleeping area which was inaccessible from the rest of the building. With no guarantee of a staff member being within ear shot, it was best the kids stayed put at night.

He passed through the rows of beds, glancing down at each child to make sure they were there, occasionally adjusting their sheets or uttering words of a peaceful night to a straggler as they dozed off. Eventually, though, he came to Ace's bed. It was empty—something he was expecting. Thatch told him about how they would occasionally go in there to find the child missing and that, up until then, they hadn't figured out where he ran off to. Marco had an idea, though. Seeing as he had to find the boy before he could nod off himself, he'd put his little theory to the test.

Quickly he finished checking the rest of the beds before making a U-turn and leaving the room, shutting the door quietly behind.

_Now then, where is he?_

* * *

"You shouldn't run off like that yoi," Marco stated as he came up behind his target, causing the boy in question to spin his head around in surprise. His hunch was right and he found the boy on the deck, lying on his back in the blind spot of the orphanage's windows. "You're making everyone worry."

Ace furrowed his brows, hesitantly looking the older male over. "How…"

Marco wore a lazy grin as he took his spot beside the child, slumping against the wall. "I used to do the same thing when I first got here—to get away from it all."

The boy pursed his lips but said not a word as he turned back to the sky, looking into the darkness, watching tiny lights flicker through it.

"Where are your parents yoi?"

Immediately that sharp gaze returned. Marco guessed no one asked him that before. It was a sensitive topic for many who stayed there. Some didn't want to talk about it, be it because of death or abandonment. Others simply were unsure.

"Hell if I know," the boy shot, eyes fixated on the man beside him.

Marco sighed. He didn't really think the kid would be able to give him an answer, but it was worth a try. "I can tell you where your father is, at least." His buddies told him the whole story. They'd gone through his legal documents when he was transferred there, after all, and most people knew of his parents—except the boy himself. He likely had no idea. No one would have told him.

"…Eh?" For the first time since their short acquaintance, Marco saw a mix of shock and dread on Ace's face as his eyes enlarged tenfold, making him look even younger. Quickly he righted himself and turned to fully face the blonde, staring with both wonder and fear. "Really?"

Marco nodded but he wasn't too enthused about telling him. He had a right to know, though. "Your father's a criminal—Gol D. Roger." He paused, giving the boy a chance to stomach that first bit of information. "He's serving a life sentence—would've been executed if the death penalty was still legal here yoi."

Ace sat there motionless, silence filling the air as he took that in. After a few minutes he hung his head and faced the floorboards, taking one deep, shivering breath after another. Marco wasn't really expecting a reply to that. He half expected the kid to walk away completely. After all, with heritage like that it would be hard to get adopted; people tended to lump children in with their parents, even if they had nothing to do with one another. As soon as they got wind of who his father was they would immediately drop the prospect of adoption in favour of a child with a less questionable background. It didn't help that he wasn't a very social person, or that he had— according to some of the workers— trouble controlling his temper. To them he was nothing more than broken merchandise, a mess that they weren't willing to care for.

Marco had been there. He knew. That's why he was surprised when Ace decided to speak.

"My… my mother? What was her name?"

The blonde blinked curiously at that before replying, "Portgas D. Rouge."

"Rouge," the boy repeated, trying the name out for himself. A weight seemed to lift as his shoulders slumped, his tense form allowing him a tiny bit of relaxation. Though it was hard, learning about his parents likely brought the boy some peace. "What about you?"

The older froze, taken aback by the question, before releasing an airy breath. "My father left before I could walk and my mother, she…" His voice faded as he thought of how best to word it. "One day she brought me to the mall and gave me a five dollar bill. She said I could use it however I wanted—that so long as I had money in my pocket I was no different from an adult." He smiled at the memory, though it came out more jaded than he hoped.

Ace's eyes widened. "She abandoned you."

The blonde chuckled. "In every sense of the word," he confirmed with a nod.

For a while they just sat there, staring at the stars. The sounds of the night filled the silence, wind blowing against their ears and crickets playing their usual song. They were content to meddle with their own thoughts, secluded from one another. Ace was likely mauling over the information he obtained about his father and Marco, well… he was just thinking.

"So," Ace began, breaking the dense atmosphere, "you're Marco, right?"

The man smiled. "That's right, Ace."

The faintest hint of a smile appeared on his freckled face. "I'll remember that."

* * *

**A/N: So hope you enjoyed that. I might write more to it in the far distant future but for now it's just a oneshot. I hope you enjoyed! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get ready for Zombie Walk! :D So... yeah, I think that's it. Thank you for reading! Please review and all that wonderful stuff!**

**Adieu~**


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